Breaking Bones
by TRDancer
Summary: Twenty-five unrelated one-shots/drabbles based on photo prompts for Round Three of the Twilight 25.
1. Prompt 6

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**  
**Prompt #:** Six  
**Pen name:** TRDancer  
**Pairing:** Edward/Tanya  
**Rating:** T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Sarabi**: Your son's awake.  
**Mufasa**: Before sunrise, he's _your_ son.  
--Lion King

* * *

Edward had a lot of books.

Tanya hated books.

They were one of those couples that are proof that opposites attract.

"How about this house?" Tanya asked, gesturing to a double page spread of a large white house in a catalogue. Edward leaned over her shoulder, cocking his head. He reached out and turned the page, scanning the rooms available for the house.

"Nope," he determined, leaning away and going back to his book.

Tanya pouted. "Why not?"

"No room for a study."

She sighed. "Right."

The room was silent except for the turning of the pages of two very different books for almost five minutes before Tanya disrupted Edward's reading again.

"How about this one? It has a nice large room you can set up bookcases in."

Edward once again leaned over to look and shook his head after barely scanning the page. "I'm not paying that much money."

"We're going to live in this house for the rest of our lives, Edward!"

He shrugged. "We'll spend the rest of our lives paying off the mortgage, too. And then we'll leave the debt to our children."

Tanya sighed. She knew how he felt about debts being left to children—he'd only just managed to pay off the debt his own father had left for him.

They both went back to flipping pages. Eventually, Tanya ran out of pages to flip and slammed the large catalogue shut, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

"I give up," she said, sitting back and crossing her arms.

"Since when does Tanya Masen give up?" Edward teased.

"Since right now."

Gently closing his book and setting it on the table next to him, Edward sat up straight and caught a piece of Tanya's strawberry blonde hair with his finger. "Come on, honey. Why don't we get something nice and small?"

She frowned. "What happened to 'I need a separate room for this and this and this'," she mocked in a falsetto.

"I do _not_ sound anything like that," Edward said indignantly.

"Yes, you do."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"I think I would know, Eddie. I'm the one who listens to it 24/7."

At that, Edward stood up and glared down at Tanya teasingly. "Don't call me Eddie, whore."

"Don't call me a whore, Eddie."

"I'll call you what I want. Get back in the kitchen, slut."

"Fine. You find us a house." Tanya stomped out of the room, leaving Edward staring after her. He sighed and sat down in the chair she had just vacated, opening the catalogue and starting to flip through it.

It took him a good fifteen minutes to go through the book. He found nothing of interest, like he'd expected, so he picked up the newspaper and started going through the classifieds.

There were absolutely no housing listings.

"What the hell," Edward muttered to himself.

After a moment of considering if there were any other options, he got up and walked into the tiny kitchen, where Tanya was flipping through a recipe book. "Where's your laptop?" he asked.

"Upstairs," Tanya said without looking up at him. "What do you want for supper?"

"Food," he told her, just like he did every time she asked.

"Figures," she mumbled, rolling up the recipe book and smacking his ass with it as he passed her on his way out of the kitchen. He grinned at her and wasn't disappointed when she glared back at him.

It was a unique relationship, that was for sure.

Upstairs, Edward clumsily opened Tanya's notebook computer and tapped around on it, using only his index fingers to type in his search query on Google. It took him five minutes just to remember how to scroll, but he eventually managed it and found an appropriate webpage.

"No, no, no," he muttered as he scrolled through the images of rundown houses. "Maybe..." he uttered as he clicked on a link, then quickly backtracked after seeing a full size picture of a nice yellow stain on the bathroom floor.

He might not have been the King of Clean to Tanya's queen, but he had his limits.

The doorbell rang. Edward ignored it.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs echoed through the apartment. Edward ignored it.

Tanya came into the room carrying a large pizza box. Edward set the computer aside and headed toward her with arms spread wide.

"How did you guess?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned surprise as he relieved her of the pizza box.

"Just a slight suspicion," Tanya said, rolling her eyes. She knew Edward never ever turned down delivery pizza.

And he knew the difference between delivery and Delissio.

She had tested that one.

Tanya forced Edward to stop devouring his slice long enough to drag him into the bedroom, where they both settled on the bed, the pizza box between them and the laptop on Tanya's lap.

"Found anything?" she inquired, scrolling through the listings on the page easily and clicking onto the next one.

"Nersh," Edward said through a mouthful of pizza.

Tanya smacked him. "English."

"Nope," he repeated after swallowing.

She frowned and clicked on a link to a nice house with a plain gray exterior. She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger as she navigated through all the pictures of the interior of the house.

_Kitchen, bathroom, living room, bathroom, bedroom, master bedroom, family room, bedroom... _

Tanya gasped.

"I found it," she declared, turning the computer toward Edward, who squinted and attempted to bring it closer to him. Tanya smacked his fingers away. "You're greasy."

"Go look in a mirr—holy hell!" he exclaimed as he caught sight of the picture on the screen. "Is that real?"

The picture in question was of a study filled to the roof with books. Unlike the modern style the rest of the pictures portrayed the house as having, this room seemed to be something out of a Disney movie, complete with the tacky moving ladder and tainted only with a couple of storage boxes piled in a corner.

"I sure hope so, because I want you to have it," Tanya said.

"Wait, hag lady wants me to have something? Stop the presses!"

Tanya blushed. "Shut up, Edward. I didn't marry you because I hate you."

"I thought you did."

"I said shut up."

"It's pretty," Edward said, staring at the screen.

"Kinda like me, hey?"

"No," Edward contradicted.

Tanya's hand flew dramatically to her heart. "Are you calling your wife ugly?!"

"No, I'm calling her gorgeous."

One month later, there was a new picture of the study posted online—but this one eliminated the ratty storage boxes and added a man and a woman smiling broadly at the camera.

The couple in question proceeded to have a fight about their hair via the comments beneath the picture.

* * *

**Zee is cool. So's Lindzee. So's Brittany.**


	2. Prompt 13

**The Twilight Twenty-Five****  
****Prompt #:** Thirteen  
**Pen name:** TRDancer  
**Pairing:** Mike/Jessica  
**Rating: **T

**Photos for prompts can be found here:****  
****community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**

**Timon:** And if he falls in love tonight, it can be assumed...  
**Pumbaa:** His carefree days with us are history.  
**Timon, Pumbaa:** In short, our pal is doomed!

* * *

I could see her panties poking over the top of her jeans when she bent over to grab her books. They were white with orange and blue spots on them, and they had _ruffles_.

Jess wore ruffled panties.

It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen.

Of course, it would have been hotter if they were the _only_ thing she was wearing... and if she were all pressed up against me as we lay on those zebra print sheets I'd seen in her room...

Some girls had lace. My girl had ruffles.

"Mike? Are you staring at my ass again?"


	3. Prompt 19

**The Twilight Twenty-Five****  
****Prompt #:** Nineteen  
**Pen name:** TRDancer  
**Pairing:** Bree  
**Rating:** T

**Photos for prompts can be found here:****  
****community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**

**Please note that this story is set in an alternate universe where Victoria did not create the newborn army. Edward wasn't such an idiot and managed to kill her in NM when they were chasing her around or something. Whatevs. Also, this is based on the song Passage, which is all about this chick dying. So, heartfail ahead, I think.

* * *

**

**Mufasa:** Simba, let me tell you something my father told me. Look at the stars. The great kings of the past are up there, watching over us.  
**Young Simba:** Really?  
**Mufasa:** Yes. So whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you. And so will I.

* * *

According to the local paper, I died yesterday in a car crash.

In reality, I died two days ago, and I've been sitting at this broken piano ever since. Through the upright part of the piano, I have a nice view of Earth and everything that's going on down there.

Not exactly what I expected from the afterlife, but hey, I didn't exactly expect to die at sixteen, either.

I zoom back into the paper, reading the article about me.

_Bree Tanner, a sixteen year old sophomore at West Seattle High School, was killed in a car collision yesterday. Alcohol and foul play are not suspected factors. The other driver involved was not injured... _blahblahblah.

I sigh and zoom out again, not interested in reading quotes from the other driver or my fellow students claiming to be my friends to be in the paper.

Since I woke up here after the explosion of my windshield shattering into a million pieces, I've figured out that the screen on the piano is connected to my mind somehow. Whoever or whatever I think of, it shows me it. With some experimentation, I've discovered that I can even make it shut off if I clear my mind enough, but that took a lot of effort, and who the hell wastes their energy when they're dead? Not I.

I figure my butt should be asleep after sitting on this piano bench for so long, but apparently you don't fall asleep at all in the afterlife. You also don't get to play the piano, even though you're sitting at one 24/7, since, like I said, it's broken. Random keys are pushed in, they're all yellow, and not a one moves an inch.

I want my money back. This is not the afterlife I signed up for. Give me angels and pearly white gates any day.

I sigh and look at the screen. My thinking about the crash has brought me a lovely view of the other driver, who goes by the nice name of Edward, hugging his wife, Bella, who is sobbing into his shoulder. I snort at the scene. "Suck it up, princess. He's not dead. Get over it."

Being dead has kinda made me cynical.

Just a tad.

I think of Riley instead. He appears on the screen in front of me, sitting on his bed, staring blankly at the TV, which is playing reruns of That 70s Show. He knows I'm dead, of course—the whole of Seattle does, I remind myself. At least, everyone who reads the newspaper.

There's a knock at his door, and he calls out for them to come in. It's his mother, come to inform him that there are more people at the door to see him. Almost every time I've checked in on him, someone has wanted to talk to him. He sighs and tells her he doesn't want to talk to people. She sighs, putting a hand on her hip. "Riley, it's important for you to be around people at a time like this."

He looks at her. "A time like what, Mom?"

She shakes her head and ducks out, closing the door behind her. I don't approve. I think she's right and should insist he goes out with his friends. "Too much That 70s Show alone in your bedroom will turn your brain to mush," I tell him aloud, even though I know he can't hear me.

Watching the aftermath of death is never pretty, even when it's someone else's death. When it's your own, it's downright terrifying. The first thing I saw when I woke up here was my crushed Chevy Impala. That in itself upset me—I'd saved for years to buy myself a car. Then I saw my sister jump out of the family van and run up behind the crowd. She called my name over and over, trying to push through to get to the car, but my father held her back.

I decided this was a good thing, because I didn't want Kylie to remember me the way I looked when they pulled me out of the wreckage. Let's just say I didn't look myself—I didn't even look human.

As I wonder to myself if they're going to have a funeral or something, the screen shows me a funeral home, my mother standing in the foyer of it. She's wearing a black dress and clutches an unused tissue in one hand. She looks more beautiful than she ever did when I was alive, and I wonder if that's just because I didn't pay attention or what.

A middle aged man walks up to her and asks for her name. She answers—May Tanner—and he flips through his appointment book as he tells her how sorry he is for her loss. I can tell that she can see through his bullshit, even though she nods and says thank you.

Thinking of the funeral too hard on my part fast forwards the screen to the weekend, about three days later. I raise my eyebrows—the absence of chronological time is new, though the part where nothing makes sense is old news by now. For all I know, I died years ago in the real world, and I only just woke up to see what's been going on.

Riley leans against a tree at the back of the crowd, watching silently. Many a person passes him by and gives their condolences, which he merely nods at, continuing to stare blankly at the grass. It's starting to turn brown; it's almost autumn. I remember that it was well in the nineties the week before I died and frown, because I missed the turning of the seasons. I will never be alive to see that happen again.

Of course, I can watch through this lovely piano screen. Whoop dee doo. Thanks, God, you're a doll.

My mother, father, and sister all stand by my coffin. It's pretty nice, I note. I wonder if my body is in there. I think about it and the screen flashes with flickering flames. The unrecognizable lump that was me glows and crumbles into a fine gray ash before my eyes, and I suck in a deep breath. I no longer exist on Earth, I realize. I am nothing.

The screen flashes to show Kylie gripping an urn in her arms. She carefully holds out a clenched fist and then opens it, letting the wind catch the dust and blow it over the water and trees. She takes a deep breath, then turns the urn upside down, letting what was left of me disappear into the air. I am everywhere.

We're back at the funeral. My mother trembles as my coffin is lowered into the dirt, tears running down her face, making it glisten in the low light of the sunset. It seems like she should be sobbing, the way she's shaking so much, but she isn't. Her grief is silent, while Kylie's is loud and angry. My father doesn't seem to grieve at all. I wonder if he ever expresses emotion. He seems like all the students that have come to my funeral—there because they feel they have to be.

Thinking about the students makes a view of the school gym appear. The principal stands in front of the crowd of students and says something about what a great asset to the music program and to the school in general I was. He calls for a moment of silence in my name, and I note that quite a few students are crying—but it's only because someone died, not because I died.

Riley sits at the top of the bleachers, his face grim and unchanging.

I think of the pain he must be going through. I know how I feel having lost him, but he must have it worse, seeing as he doesn't get to watch me through a nice piano screen.

I wonder, which hurts more, watching but not having, or just not having?

The screen changes to show Riley sitting on his bed, sort of swaying back and forth. Something in his hand flashes in the sunlight streaming through the window. I look closer to see that it's his Swiss Army knife. I watch, horrified, as he holds it to his wrist.

"No!" I scream at him, but it falls upon deaf ears. This feeling is worse than dying. It's like my already unbeating heart has been ripped out of my chest. I pound my head into the piano, covering my eyes and wishing it would all just stop.

The keys on the piano seem to turn even more yellow.

I glance up at the screen, terrified that he killed himself. But no, he's flipping the knife shut and throwing it across the room.

"Tomorrow comes," he says in a whisper. "Hold on a while."

There is no blood. Perhaps he heard me, after all, somehow. My heart seems to grow back into place, though I feel like a piece of it is still missing.

Months pass as I watch the screen. They've planted a tree for me in the front yard, and it's grown some, but it seems to have an objection to the winter cold. I empathize with it; I never liked winter much either.

My mother sleeps restlessly, dreaming of me holding my own child. My heart breaks again for what can never be. Kylie sits up that same night, watching homemade tapes of us running around in the backyard in the summer, blowing bubbles and trying to beat each other at absolutely everything. She laughs at my attempt to climb a tree, tears running down her face.

Just one more piece of my heart is ripped out. It's okay, I didn't need it.

A new girl moves into town. Her name is Angela Weber, and the school assigns her my schedule. They give her all my books and slap a name tag with her name over the one reading 'Bree Tanner' on my locker. The teachers give her the only empty seat in their classes—mine. I wonder if she knows she's sitting where the dead girl used to. I wonder if she knows she's taking over the dead girl's life.

I decide she probably doesn't.

New girl graduates, along with everyone I ever went to school with. Years pass, my tree grows, drinking melted snow and rainfall, reaching a height of eight feet. It's a pale and fragile thing, and my father silently compares it to me.

Suddenly it's the summer before my sister starts her senior year. She begs Mom and Dad to let her go to Florida with her friends. Instead, they insist they go on a family vacation to Hawaii.

They don't say it, but I hear it in their thoughts: _We haven't had a vacation since before Bree._

An odd thing happens as Kylie shrieks when my father splashes her with water and she attacks back. A few keys on the piano, the lowest octave—they straighten themselves out and turn a glistening white, like they're fresh off a grand piano.

I play them, but the only sounds they can make are depressing.

It's better than the silence, though.

Back at home, my sister has her first day of the twelfth grade. Walking home, because she's still afraid of driving, she takes a detour through a wooded area and finds a sparrow with a broken wing. Remembering when I would bring home stray animals, she takes it home and nurses it back to health.

As it flies away a couple weeks later, a huge grin that I haven't seen her smile since I was alive spreads across her face.

Another octave on the piano turns to white.

My father gets home from work a few weeks later and walks up to my tree. He reaches up and plucks a tiny apple off it. He stares at it for a moment, then tucks it into his coat pocket.

"These are a sign of second chances," he tells my sister later that night, giving her one of his classic we-can-do-this lectures. She agrees.

The octave that turned white before's keys straighten out. I play them. They make the song much happier than it had been.

My sister graduates with a sad smile and a sunburn on her face. I'm surprised to see Riley in the crowd. I've been avoiding thinking of him since all I ever got was him sitting in his room, depressed. It made me want to die again whenever I saw him looking like that. He looks better now, though he's blinking like he's never seen the sun before.

"What did I tell you, it wasn't good for you to sit down there all alone," I scold him.

There is a special presentation at the ceremony. In honour of my sister's graduation and the fact that I'll never get to, the school is buying the baby grand piano I'd always pushed for and putting a plaque with 'In Memory of Bree Tanner' on it.

Good to know my brief efforts weren't completely in vain. Even if I had to die to make it happen.

My piano here in the afterlife likes that. An octave turns white and the keys straighten out.

My sister's boyfriend proposes to her at their graduation party. She tells him she'll think about it—she's always had commitment issues. Lying in her bed alone later that night, she asks at a whisper what I would do.

I want to tell her to say yes, that her boyfriend is perfect for her. I've been watching him, of course, and he hasn't even come close to cheating on her.

Not that that makes the perfect man, but it certainly helps a fuckton.

She does say yes. They move in together and go to college and have kids and have the life I never will. But I know that I am in their thoughts, if not every moment, often enough for me.

Another octave becomes perfect.

My mother rifles through photo albums, pausing particularly on pictures of me. She stores these away in their own personal album, smiling as she thinks that I was, indeed, a lovely one.

Thanks, Mom. Glad you realized.

She stores the photo album in the bottom of the box, sighing sadly as she does so.

Yet another octave turns white. I play simple songs, glad to have something to do other than watch and watch and watch.

I've lost track of time now. It's been ages and ages and ages since I died. Seems like a lifetime to me. Long enough for them to have made such a jump in technology that it is now almost impossible to crash a car. Even Kylie will drive with these new safety guards and multiple reassurances from her husband that she can't die the way I did.

I observe a freeway full of the safely packaged people hurtling back and forth, hardly making a sound, and smile. I wouldn't wish a car accident upon anybody.

Over the years and accomplishments of my family, all but one octave, the highest one, are perfect. I can play most songs, though some are missing a note here and there. The absence bothers me.

I wonder one day what Riley is doing.

He appears on the screen, sitting next to a fire and throwing pieces of paper into it. Looking closer, I see that they're the love letter we sent to each other in freshman year, when we were young and naive. I can almost feel the tears building up behind my eyes, but I don't cry.

He throws the last one in and stands, turning to a woman sitting in a lawn chair behind him. She pats the one next to her, and he sits down, leaning into her.

"Good job, sweetheart," she whispers to him, her curly red hair falling in front of her face.

"It was needed," he replies. "Will you marry me?"

Just like that, the rest of the piano turns white and the screen goes blank. The piano transforms from the pale blue upright it was to a legitimate grand piano.

Tears finally escape my eyes as I play my favourite song, the one everyone loved and will never hear again.

Because I never wrote it down.


	4. Prompt 22

**The Twilight Twenty-Five****  
****Prompt #: **Twenty-two**  
****Pen name: **TRDancer**  
****Pairing: **Carlisle/Esme**  
****Rating: **T

**Photos for prompts can be found here:****  
****community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**

**Young Simba**: What's a motto?  
**Timon**: Nothing. What's a motto with you?

* * *

"Will you pass me the popcorn, please?"

"Carlisle, we didn't buy popcorn. Have a sandwich." Esme shoved a Ziploc bag into my hand.

"What kind is it?"

"Peanut butter and jelly. Now shush, we're in a movie theatre!"

"A really creepy movie theatre," I pointed out.

"Shut up back there!" a voice hissed.

I obeyed for a second, then whispered to Esme, "Why do you make sandwiches when there's popcorn?"

"It's healthier _and _cheaper. Be quiet."

I watched the screen as a corny actor said something sappy to the female lead.

"This movie really sucks. I'm going to get popcorn."


	5. Prompt 14

**The Twilight Twenty-Five****  
****Prompt #: **Fourteen**  
****Pen name: **TRDancer**  
****Pairing: **Jasper/Emmett**  
****Rating: **T

**Photos for prompts can be found here:****  
****community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**

**Scar:** Well, as far as brains go, I got the ___lion's_ share. But when it comes to brute strength, I'm afraid I'm at the shallow end of the gene pool.

* * *

"Ready?" Emmett asked, his fingers resting lightly on top of his bottle.

"Hell yeah," I answered. We were balanced on top of the fence in my backyard, facing the back alley, having just returned through the alley from buying our customary once a week drinks. Emmett counted down from three, and we cracked open our bottles of Jones Soda simultaneously.

"'Your life will be full of sunshine'," he read off the inside of the cap. "That's lovely. What does yours say?"

"'Climb a tree'," I told him.

"Oooh, that's a good one!" he said, excited. He was always more into the ones that told you to do something; he once got one that said to learn a new language and immediately joined the French option at school.

Jones Soda bottle caps were a serious affair—they had been since we could read.

"How about you climb that one?" Emmett suggested, pointing at a large pine in my backyard.

"Emmett, are you insane? I'll get stabbed to death by the needles, not to mention the sticky crap all over my hands."

"Ew, sticky crap. You're right. That would be a bad idea, 'cause you are not holding my hand when you're covered in sap."

I grinned at him. "What about that oak tree we used to climb when we were little?"

"Back when we were in denial about being gay and were determined that we were going to bring girls to that tree and kiss them?"

Nodding, I grabbed his hand and jumped off the fence, pulling him with me. I started down the alleyway and then stopped. "Where is it?"

Emmett shrugged and took a sip of his soda. "Wasn't it near my grandma's place?"

I bit my lip. "Maybe. It's worth a shot."

"Well, come on then." He tugged at my hand, and I followed him down the alley, admiring, as I always did, his perpetual smile.

Best friends since first grade, Emmett and I had been dating since the beginning of high school. It had been a long four years, full of gossip and unaccepting people, but we stuck it out without fail. If there was ever a thing I was sure about, it was that I couldn't have done it without Emmett. He was the more masculine of the two of us—he didn't really do moisturizer quite the way I did, nor was he as into proper fashion as I was—and so I was sure he wouldn't have had a problem on his own. He was even on the football team.

Without his intimidating muscles, I don't think I would have survived the wrath of some students.

"There it is!" Emmett exclaimed, gesturing at a huge tree in the middle of a tiny park by the highway. He ran across the road, and I followed more cautiously, watching for the traffic that didn't exist.

"I remembered it bigger," I commented when we were standing underneath it.

"It's pretty effing big, Jazz," Emmett said, rolling his eyes. "We were, like, nine the last time we were here."

I stared up through the branches. I was supposed to climb this thing? _How?_

"Start climbing!" Emmett told me cheerfully.

"I can't," I muttered.

"Yes, you can! What kind of attitude is that?"

"Fine then. You climb it."

"I didn't get the cap that said to climb a tree," he pointed out.

I frowned and gently set my bottle at the roots of the oak. "Fine," I said aloud. "Here goes nothing."

I grabbed onto the lowest branch and hauled myself up, bracing my feet against the trunk. I reached for a higher branch and continued upwards strategically, picking my branches carefully. Emmett cheered me on continuously, making me smile like a stupid idiot with his catcalls.

And then I looked down.

Immediately, my grip tightened and my heartbeat sped up. "Holy shit. Holy fucking shit shit shit."

"What is it?" Emmett's worried voice called up the tree.

"I'm so fucking high!" I squeaked out.

"Are you okay?"

"No! I'm going to fall and break my neck. Holy fuck."

"Jasper, it's going to be okay. Just come back down."

I tried to will myself to look down and find somewhere to put my feet, but I couldn't do it. "I can't," I mumbled.

"What?"

"I can't!"

"Oh, Jazz, yes, you can! You got up there, now you just gotta get back down."

"Emmett, I can't. I'm so scared," I managed to admit.

It was quiet for a moment and then I felt the tree shake a bit. "Oh my God, what the hell."

"It's just me," Emmett said. "I'm coming to get you."

I could feel tears building up behind my eyes as I listened to Emmett making his way up the tree. It didn't take him long to make it up to where I was, easily holding onto a branch near mine. "Hey, Jazzy," he said softly.

"Hi," I replied, my voice breaking. I struggled to hold back the tears.

"You gonna be okay?"

"I feel like an idiot fag," I burst out. "Crying like a girl because I'm afraid of falling out of a tree. Look at you, you're perfectly fine."

"Aw, Jasper, not everyone is the same. I'm positive there are tons of straight guys that would be pissing their pants in your situation. At least you're keeping your cool."

"My cool? I'm fucking sobbing!"

"But you haven't pissed your pants," Emmett repeated, his tone light.

I snorted. "Whoo hoo," I said sarcastically.

"Hey, listen to me. I don't want to hear you talking about yourself like that ever again. You're not an idiot fag."

"Then what am I?"

"A really nice guy with a totally normal fear of falling. Everyone's afraid of dying, Jasper." He was quiet for a moment and then added, "Isn't it a nice view?"

I cautiously turned my head and looked out of the tree. Beyond the branches was a perfect skyline of buildings framed by the setting sun—it looked like something that should be in an art gallery. I looked back at Emmett and nodded. "It's really nice."

He grinned. "Let's get you down from here now." He started to back down the tree, and I snapped back into reality, having forgotten for a moment that I was halfway up a gigantic tree.

"I'll direct your feet. You do your arms," Emmett said, tapping my right foot and helping me guide it down to another branch. Slowly but surely, we made our way back to the solid ground.

When we finally reached the last branch, I jumped onto the dirt and immediately lay down, staring up at the tree. "Oh, ground, how I've missed you," I murmured. "I would kiss you, but you are extremely dirty and unsanitary."

Emmett jumped down next to me and smirked his extremely sexy smirk. "What about me? Do I get a kiss for being your saviour?"

"You're no better than the ground," I said, sitting up and kissing him anyway.

I pulled away after a minute and rested my forehead against his. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Just a bit of tree climbing," he said, giving a slight shrug.

I shook my head slightly, smiling sadly. "No, not just for that. For everything. All you've done is protect me since we started high school—heck, you probably started protecting me back in first grade."

He looked almost confused for a moment, then kissed me again, sending my head into a whirlwind of bright yellow stars. He pulled back sooner than I would have liked and used his thumb to wipe off my tear stained face. "I would cross the _world_ for you, Jazz."

"I'd have to come with you," I said honestly. "You'd end up getting yourself hurt if I didn't."

"And that's why I love you," he said, pushing me into the tree and pressing his lips to mine again.

I reached behind me and grabbed the Jones Soda bottle that was shoving itself into my back and threw it into the long grass to our side, then grabbed Emmett's hands, lacing my fingers with his.

"I love you, too," I told him. "I don't need any bottle cap to tell me that."

"Let's go home," he suggested, pulling me to my feet. "I think this is a bit too public for me."

"I agree," I said, starting out across the road and dragging Emmett with me.

And so us two gay guys lived happily ever after.

Moisturizer and footballs included.


	6. Prompt 12

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Twelve  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Jasper/Nessie  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Young Simba****:** Yeah, right. I'm your only nephew.  
**Scar****:** All the more reason for me to be protective.

* * *

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yep!" Nessie chimed, grinning. I laughed at the sight of her holding the picnic basket with both of her little hands, struggling to keep it aloft. I took it from her and handed her the striped blanket instead.

"Uncle Jasper, where are we going?" she asked, following me out the door and to the car.

"I know the perfect place for a picnic. Your parents used to go there all the time."

"That place out in the woods?"

"Yep."

She wrinkled her nose. "Gross. I don't like the woods."

"You'll like it where we're going."

* * *

**For every drabble you read from now on, Brittany picked which prompt and which pairing to do. She pretty much rocks my world. :)**


	7. Prompt 11

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Eleven  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Aro/Emmett  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Timon:** Why do I always have to save your... ahh!

* * *

"I hate your car."

"That's too damn bad," my cousin, Aro, replied. I pursed my lips and went back to studying the map.

"Where are we going again?" I asked.

"Emmett, you're the one navigating, for God's sake. You're supposed to know!"

"You're the one driving this piece of shit."

"It's not a piece of shit. I didn't get it sent overseas just so you could poke fun at it."

"You're right. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad if you got rid of this blanket," I shot back. The blanket in question was a red plaid thing that I refused to touch because it practically cut my skin it was so scratchy. Sadly, it was hard to avoid it, seeing as it was draped over the back of the bench seat.

"Oh, now you've gone too far!" Aro exclaimed, shooting a glare in my direction.

I bursted out laughing. "You can't make threats with that accent. You just can't."

"Oh, so now we're making fun of my accent, are we? I can't believe Aunt Lucy is making me drive across the country with _you_."

"Hey, man, you'd totally get lost if it weren't for me."

"Emmett, we made six wrong turns in half an hour. I've been driving around in circles. It's a wonder we even crossed a state border."

"Well, I told you I was shit at reading maps. But would you let me drive? Nooo, Mister Tea Drinking Fancy Pants wouldn't let me drive his _precious_ car."

"I hate tea," Aro muttered.

"Your accent loves it."

"I'm stopping at this gas station before I explode from being in the same car with you for too long."

"As you wish," I said in a mocking imitation of his accent.

Aro pulled off the freeway into the parking lot of a tiny, nameless gas station that was basically in the middle of nowhere in Montana, save for a few houses scattered around it. He parked gracefully next to the building and was out of the car before I could even make a snarky comment about how the gas station was like a weed in the desert or something equally painful and annoying.

I got out of the car slowly, stretching out my muscles and sauntering toward the door of the gas station, wondering to myself if they had any Cheetos.

The second I got inside I could hear Aro's annoying accent. "...to see the country or something, so I've been sent off with the worst navigator you could ever imagine—oh, look, here he is now."

Aro gestured for me to join him at the front counter. I took my time doing so, checking out the two girls that were hanging over Aro's every word. They were total opposites—one blonde, one brunette; one tall, one short, etc. They were both lookers, but the blonde was more my roll.

"Hello, ladies," I said, leaning against the counter. "Got any Cheetos?"

"They're over in the chip aisle," the brunette told me.

"Awesome. I'll have to get me some of those." I winked in the blonde's direction.

Aro rolled his eyes, brushing his black 'fringe', as he liked to call it, out of his eyes. "This is Emmett. Emmett, this is Claire and Kate."

"We hear you're a terrible navigator," the brunette, Claire, teased.

"Well, I told my dear cousin here that I should drive, but he refused to let me."

"Why's that?" Kate asked, flipping her blonde locks over one shoulder.

"I like my car too much," Aro explained.

Claire giggled. What was it about girls and British accents? Both Kate and Claire seemed to be all over Aro. Couldn't a guy catch a break?

"Off to get my Cheetos, then," I mumbled, walking away. They ignored my departure, already engrossed in whatever Aro was talking about now—probably the benefits of crumpets over biscuits or some shit.

I discovered that they stocked every type of Cheetos and grabbed the huge bags of all of them, stacking them in my arms and staggering back to the checkout with them.

"Emmett, guess what I've convinced Kate and Claire to do!" Aro said excitedly as I dumped the bags onto the counter.

_Give you a blowjob? _I wondered to myself, but thought better than to say it. "What?"

"We're going to come with you!" Claire said, smiling.

"As long as our parents let us," Kate added anxiously.

"Oh, please. We're eighteen, Kate. This is going to be great for my photography!"

"Right. We'll be right back."

The two girls traipsed out the back door. I watched them go before turning to Aro.

"Aro... are you insane? You just invited two _girls_ to join us on our cross country adventure. Do you—"

"I thought you would appreciate it," Aro interrupted, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Sure, they're hot babes, but, _as I was saying,_ do you have any idea how high maintenance girls are? They're going to want to control the music, when we stop, where we go... and the one thinks she's a photographer. Every hot girl with a camera thinks that! You just signed us up for days of endless shutter clicking."

Aro stared at me for a moment before bursting into a tirade of laughter. _Oh God, _I thought, _even his laugh sounds posh._

"Emmett, it'll be fine. They live in a town with nothing whatsoever to do. They're excited."

"You just want them to come because they both have the hots for you," I groused.

"Shut up." Aro glanced in the direction the girls had left in. "I'm going out to the car. You stick around, all right?"

"Got to pay for my Cheetos, don't I?" I shot back. Aro rolled his eyes again as he left. I got the feeling that I was going to see those brown irises practically jam into his skull way too many times during the remainder of the summer.

I waited for Claire and Kate to return, tapping my fingers against the glass case that housed lottery tickets. It seemed to me that they took entirely too long, and I soon discovered why.

Claire came back into the building first, lugging a large green suitcase behind her. Kate was quick to follow, toting a purple duplicate of the first suitcase.

"We're allowed to come!" Kate said.

_That's what she said, _I thought. Out loud, I said, "Great. Can you ring up my Cheetos now?"

!~!

Three days on the road later, and I still had no idea where we were going.

I had also seen way too many flower gardens and listened to far too many Top 40 hits.

I hated the radio.

I hated Claire's shutter clicking.

I hated Kate's magazine obsession.

I hated Aro for breathing.

I especially hated that I was still the one reading the map.

"I don't understand squiggly lines. How many times do I have to tell you?" I asked for the millionth time from the back seat, where I'd been relocated after Kate complained about getting car sick in the backseat and Claire claimed she 'could hardly spot the best photo taking places from the backseat!'

This meant that Aro got to snuggle up with the hot babes and I got to hang out with the dust bunnies in his back seat.

Have I mentioned that I hate him?

"Emmett, you don't _need_ to read the map. We're just taking it day by day," Aro told me.

"Didn't my mother tell you that we need to be in Maine for the family reunion on August 12th?

"Well, yes, but—"

"How do you profess to get there without reading a God damn map?"

"Emmett, we're in... what state are we in?"

"We just entered Colorado," Claire said helpfully, snapping a picture of the welcome sign as we passed it.

"Would you _stop_ with the shutter clicking?" I asked.

She didn't respond, instead sharing a knowing glance with Kate, and I went back to studying the map.

After about five minutes, I determined that we were going in the wrong direction.

"Aro, you idiot. You're going south, and you should be going north-east!" I rolled up the map and hit him over the head with it.

"Hey! That's probably not the smartest thing to do to the person who's driving!" Kate pointed out.

"Shut up and read a magazine!" I yelled.

"Why are you such an asshole?" Kate asked indignantly.

I ignored her and pointed out an exit to Aro. Thankfully, he took it, and, after going over an overpass and nearly getting hit by a semi-truck, we were travelling in the correct direction for once.

And then I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the car wasn't moving and there was no one but me in it.

_Another garden? _I wondered, stretching as I got out.

It wasn't a garden. It was a police building.

_What the hell? _I hovered next to the car, unsure about what to do. Should I go inside and try to find Aro? Should I stay here and wait for them all to get back? I recalled my mother telling me to keep Aro out of trouble and felt the blood drain from my face.

_Shit, shit, shit._

Without thinking about it, I strode over to the entrance and found myself talking to a considerably nice secretary.

It turned out that Aro had been speeding and been pulled over. The police officer had "recognized" both him and the girls—Aro was, apparently, a suspected felon who had just escaped from a nearby jail, and Kate and Claire matched the descriptions of two girls who had recently gone missing.

No one had noticed me in the backseat.

I miss all the exciting stuff.

Fuck my life.

"How can I get them out?" I asked, and listened carefully to the secretary's advice.

!~!

I leaned against the car door, blissfully drowning in the praises and promises that were being foisted upon me.

"I'll stop with the shutter clicking—"

"I'll let you drive—"

"I'll stop playing Top 40—"

"I'll share my magazines—"

"I'll navigate—"

I held up my hands to stop the stream of words pouring from their mouths. "It's all right, guys. I know it wasn't exactly all that nice in a prison cell all night, but you're out now. We can put this all behind us. I just have one request."

"Anything—"

"What—"

"I'll—"

I raised my hands again. "I just want you to wake me up next time, okay? If I have to be awake for the pain that is this road trip, I want to be awake for the exciting bits, too, all right?"

They all nodded in agreement.

!~!

We arrived in Maine in one piece, eyes glued wide open from witnessing all the things that were to be witnessed all across the country. Things had mostly gone back to normal after the police station visit, except that I no longer had to endure all the painful things 24/7—I was allowed to ride shotgun, play my heavy metal, and confiscate Claire's camera and annoy them to death with shutter clicking of my own every once in awhile.

My mother asked if I'd learned anything while travelling across the country with my cousin.

I told her I'd learned the concept of compromise.

She didn't get it.

I told her I'd learned that eating six bags of Cheetos in one day isn't so smart.

She got that one.

* * *

**I don't know what this is.**


	8. Prompt 18

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Eighteen  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Jacob/Alice  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Pumbaa**: It's like my buddy Timon always says: you got to put your behind in your past.  
**Timon**: No, no no. Amateur. Sit down before you hurt yourself. It's "You got to put your past behind you."

* * *

Under the bridge had always been our spot. It was where we left each other our secret notes and where we met up when we could find a spare moment.

But that had all ended when he went off to college with that redhead chick, despite the promises. In my hands I held every note I'd ever received from him and every picture I could find of us together, his tan face laughing next to my pale one.

I sighed and dropped them into a puddle, the papers spreading out to cover the sinking pictures.

It was all over now.


	9. Prompt 8

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Eight  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Bella/Jasper  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Nala**: What made you come back?  
**Adult Simba**: I finally got some sense knocked into me. And I've got the bump to prove it.

* * *

"What do you want?" Bella Swan asked of the blonde man standing in her doorway, shifting the light-haired toddler in her arms to her other hip. "Here to sell me a new vacuum?"

He shifted awkwardly, holding his hands behind his back and glancing between her face and the floor. "Hi, Bella," he said quietly. "It's me... Jasper."

And with those five words, her world turned upside down.

!~!

"Damn, I don't know if I can find a parking space," Rosalie mused, craning her neck to look through the rear-view mirror at the couple sitting in the backseat.

Bella shrugged non-committally, but Jasper was on top of it. "There—quick!" Rose followed his point and spotted the just vacated spot right next to the entrance, spinning the steering wheel sharply to the left and executing a perfect park. She threw the car into park and turned in her seat to give her twin a high-five.

"Awesome one, Rose," Jasper complimented.

"There is an _insane_ amount of people here," Emmett, Rosalie's boyfriend, commented from the passenger seat.

"That's what we get for coming to the beach mid-afternoon on the hottest day of the year," Bella teased.

"What are we waiting for?" Rose asked, throwing her door open and jumping out, her flip-flops making a crunching noise as they landed on the gravel. The rest of them followed suit, gathering up their cooler, towels, and assorted flotation devices from the back of the car.

They staked a claim on a piece of sand right in the middle of the beach, spreading out their towels and sprawling across them to soak up the sun. Despite their being only sixteen and seventeen, their cooler had a fair amount of alcohol hidden beneath the ice and misleading fruit, and they weren't discreet about drinking it.

They hung around the beach for hours, alternately lying on their towels, floating in the water, playing beach volleyball or soccer, and making terrible approximations to sand castles that they promptly stomped on. By the time the beach had mostly cleared of people, the four teenagers were more than little drunk and ready to start a party right there on the sand.

They would have done so, but they didn't have any source of music, nor anyone else there to party with.

The lack of music didn't stop Bella and Jasper, though—they proceeded to slow dance in the sand as the sun sank below the horizon. Bella buried her head in Jasper's chest and breathed in his scent.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.

!~!

Bella tapped her fingers against the fabric of her table cloth. She glanced over to check that the toddler was fine, then she looked back at Jasper, her gaze hardening into a glare.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

Jasper stared blankly at the lemonade that Bella had poured him. He considered taking a sip, but didn't. Instead, he looked up at Bella, meeting her eyes hesitantly.

"I missed you," he said.

Bella sighed.

!~!

His hands wrapped around Bella's, holding her in place. She felt the sweat building up between their palms and tried to pull away, but his grip only grew tighter.

"You're not thinking straight," he said, fluttering his baby blues at her. She averted her gaze.

"Jasper, I know what I want."

"No, Bella! You don't! I won't let you do this," he said decisively.

She looked back into his eyes then. "It's really not your choice. I'm keeping the baby, and though I would appreciate your help, I'm sure I can manage just fine on my own."

"But Bells, what about college? What about your life? You can't just give that up."

That moment was when Rosalie decided to join them in the kitchen. She walked casually over the hard tile to the fridge, opening it and staring in. "What's Bella giving up?" she asked conversationally, pulling out a carton of milk.

"Her life," Jasper answered just as Bella replied with a resounding "Nothing."

Rosalie raised her eyebrows. "Which one is it?"

"She's pregnant," Jasper explained.

Confusion crossed Rose's face, then understanding took its place there. There was an awkward silence. The milk carton sat forgotten on the counter next to the fridge.

"She wants to keep it," Rosalie discerned.

Jasper and Bella nodded together, then abruptly stopped when they noticed the other doing it.

"Bella, are you sure? I don't think that's such a good idea. You're only eighteen. Last summer around this time we were living it up on the beach. Do you want that all to be over already?"

"I'm ready to be an adult," Bella said, but there was confidence lacking in her voice.

"I don't think you are," Rose said. "You just graduated high school."

"That's right. I'm on my own now."

"That doesn't mean go out and start a family right this second," Jasper cut in.

"I don't believe I went anywhere, _Jazz_," Bella shot back, using his hated nickname. "This isn't just my fault, you know."

Jasper's cheeks flushed pink. "I'm not the one set to ruin my life."

Bella frowned, looking between two disapproving faces. Rosalie and Jasper had never looked so twin-like to her.

"If that's how you feel about it." She turned on her heel and walked numbly out of their house.

If the world had turned upside down when she'd discovered she was pregnant, it was right side up again now.

!~!

"I haven't seen you in four years," Bella said point-blank. "If you missed me that much, I would have expected you to show up on my doorstep a bit earlier than now."

It was Jasper's turn to sigh. He turned the lemonade glass around with his fingertips, then delicately lifted it and took a sip. He felt as if he did one thing out of turn, she would kick him out faster than he could say her name. "I just... I wanted to see you. I wanted to see..." He couldn't get himself to finish the sentence, remembering the expression on her face all those years ago.

"The baby?" she finished for him.

He nodded sheepishly. "I wanted to see how you were doing. Your mom said you were fine, but—"

"But you didn't believe her," Bella interrupted.

She had always known him almost too well, he remembered.

"It's late," she pointed out after they were silent for a few minutes. "You can come back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What time?"

"One?"

"I'll be here," he said, getting up.

!~!

When Bella had her baby, she had no one's fingers to hang on to, no one to yell at, and no one to revel in the baby's beauty with her when it was all over.

But she didn't mind. The nurses were quick to ooh and aww over her baby boy, and her mother made a brief appearance the next day. Charlie hadn't approved of her decision to keep the baby, either, but Bella had decided not to care.

She was done with anyone that didn't care enough about her.

But there was a tiny piece of her that wished her father would meet his grandson, wished her son wouldn't have to grow up without a father, wished she at least had some friends to depend on.

!~!

It was dark in the coat closet. Bella could feel her upper back being pressed into the wall, while Jasper's arm was wrapped around her waist. Their faces had barely any space between them; Bella could feel his hot breath spread across her face and then recede with each breath.

"You know, I would have been fine without you," she whispered.

He placed his index finger delicately over her mouth, shushing her. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, her lips brushing against his finger.

There was a long silence, and then he sighed out: "Everything."

A fist pounded on the door.

"Mom? Dad? I need to get my coat."

They broke apart and Bella pulled her son's coat off its hanger and opened the closet door, handing it to him. "Have a good day at school," she told him.

He snorted. "You'll have a better time in the closet."

"Likely," Jasper confirmed, pulling Bella back inside.

* * *

**Yeah, I'm a cop-out. Unless you didn't think so.**


	10. Prompt 21

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Twenty-one  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Edward/Rosalie  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Timon**: [_to Nala, after she accidentally surprises him_] Don't ever do that again! Carnivores, ugh!

* * *

"Ack, Edward, no!" Rose screamed as I pushed her off the tree branch.

I laughed at her terrified expression as she swung out over the lake. "Let go!" I called out.

She listened, but only with one hand. Her scream increased in volume as she flailed in the air. I grabbed Rose's free arm when she swung back, pulling her onto the branch.

"That was terrible. Why didn't you let go?"

"Because I wanted to do this." She grabbed me, giving me a long kiss, before shoving me. I landed with a splash in the water, sputtering. "Take that, bitch!"


	11. Prompt 7

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Seven  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Emmett/Jessica  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Pumbaa**: Hey, Timon, ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?  
**Timon**: Pumbaa, I don't wonder; I know.  
**Pumbaa**: Oh. What are they?  
**Timon**: They're fireflies. Fireflies that, uh... got stuck up on that big bluish-black thing.  
**Pumbaa**: Oh, gee. I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away.  
**Timon**: Pumbaa, with you, everything's gas.

* * *

The fallen leaves crunch beneath my bare feet as I walk one foot in front of the other along the side of the wide open sidewalk, my sandals dangling from one hand while my other hand holds up my long white dress.

"You're getting your dress all dirty," Emmett notes, a sour look on his handsome face. I grin over at him, admiring the play of the light on his face as we pass between the street lamps.

"Yep," I say, dropping my dress and switching my shoes to the now free hand in order to loop my fingers through Emmett's. "It's not like I'm going to wear it again."

Emmett raises his eyebrows at me. "You're going to want it for when you get remarried."

I snort. "Believe me, if I got remarried, it would be an elopement where I wear some God damn jeans. That party was way too wild for me."

"Explains why we're out here in the middle of the night during autumn. I'm freezing my ass off, you know."

It's my turn to raise my eyebrows at him. "Just a few hours earlier you were complaining about it being stuffy in your tux."

"And it was," he asserts. "That doesn't mean I can't be cold now."

I laugh at the pout on his face. "You know, I remember a time when you would have insisted on giving me your jacket no matter whether _I_ was cold or not."

"I'd still give you my jacket," he whines.

"But only if I asked nicely."

He shrugs. "A guy's got his needs."

I pause for a moment, waiting for what I know is coming.

"That's what she said," he adds. I smile to myself.

"It's all right," I reassure him. "Chivalry is long dead anyway."

"Oh? Then you won't be wanting this, I assume," he says, dropping my hand and pulling a tiny white flower out from behind his back.

I let out an involuntary gasp and then snatch it out of his hands. "Where did you manage to get this?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular," he avoids, putting his hands behind his back and adopting a nonchalant expression.

I study the flower suspiciously. How did he make a flower appear out of practically nowhere? "Is it going to explode?"

"It could."

I pause, realizing something. "Emmett..."

"Jessica..."

"This flower is off your corsage," I accuse.

"It is not!" he objects.

"Yes, it is!" I exclaim, tossing it into the grass and smacking his upper arm. "Hardly fair, making me think you actually like me."

"Oh, I don't like you," Emmett says.

I roll my eyes, already ready for _this_ line.

"I love you," he finishes, then sweeps me up into his arms and plants a kiss on my lips.

"How sweet," I say, trying to wriggle my way out of his arms.

"You're not going anywhere," he tells me, still walking down the seemingly never ending sidewalk.

I give up my struggles. "Fine. But where are we going, anyway?"

"Home?" he suggests.

"Em, my little hubby, we live across the country."

He looks perplexed by this information. "We do?"

"Yes, Em," I say. "And besides, that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"You know what I meant," I say sternly.

Emmett sighs and nods. "Why are we talking about our life goals on our wedding night?"

"I consider it my duty to make sure we talk about it every single day until we decide what it is we're doing and where it is we're going."

"And I consider it my duty to make sure we don't talk about it right this second, which is about the second where I should be admiring exactly what's under that gorgeously dirty white dress."

I roll my eyes. Emmett sighs.

"Jess, we're not even in our thirties yet. We have forever to talk about it."

"Forever?" I ask skeptically.

"Yes," he confirms. "Forever. As long as rivers flow and birds fly and the wind blows and whatever else it is that will never stop."

"As long as the sun's still shining?"

He makes a face at that one. "Longer. After all, I'm not putting us to rest after the sun sets."

I giggle. "Good call."

We're silent for a moment before I command him to put me down. One glance at the look on my face and he obeys.

"I don't want to ever get remarried, you know," I comment.

"No?" he asks. "You're not going to get sick of me sitting next to you on the couch all night long... drinking the coffee you make in the morning... sleeping in your personal bubble... using your computer all night..."

I hold up my hand to stop him. "When I'm with you, there is no personal bubble. As for the other things, if you value your life, you just won't. Ever."

Emmett laughs. "It's been three years, and I still haven't stopped. Getting married is not going to change that. Sorry for the disappointment."

I roll my eyes yet again. "You're not a disappointment," I assure him.

"Oh, but _you_ are."

"I am?" I ask, offended.

"Of course. You do know you snore rather loud, right?"

I punch him in the shoulder this time. "I do not."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don't!"

"Jess, my darling wife... yes, you do."

"Why haven't you mentioned it before, then?"

"How would I get a ring on your finger if I insulted you all the time?"

"I don't know," I tease. "How do you think you managed it without?"

"Mmm, could it be... my overwhelming good looks?"

I shake my head, holding back laughter.

"All right then. It's gotta be my charm, then."

"That's probably a plus, yes," I say through my giggles.

"But in the end," he says decisively, "it had to be my determination that won out."

"Your determination?"

"Yes, my determination. You had to be my prom queen. You had to be the girl at all my football games. You had to be the girl I went to college with and the girl I moved in with. And you just _had_ to be the girl I put that ring on." He brushes his fingers over the silver bands wrapped around my left ring finger.

"I had to be, hey?"

"You had to be," Emmett confirms.

"I still think it was your charm."

He snorts at me. "Charm has nothing to do with it."

"Silly boy," I scold, putting a finger over his lips and then removing it to kiss him softly.

"I think it's about time for that hotel room," Emmett declares.

"Definitely," I agree. "There's just one problem."

"Jess?" he asks warily.

"Where the fuck are we?"


	12. Prompt 1

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: One  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Riley/Victoria  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Scar**: You run along now, and have fun. And remember... it's our little secret.

* * *

"Do you see this hourglass here?" Victoria asked him, her voice tinkling.

Riley nodded.

"The sand moves pretty fast, doesn't it?"

He nodded again.

"That is how fast time is passing. That's how soon we will be at battle. And will we win?"

"Of course we will," Riley replied with conviction.

"No! You never assume we have the upper hand! We must fight like it's our last fight, do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Good. Run along and rally the newborns. We head out tomorrow... possibly."

"You'll meet us there?"

"Of course I will."

She shot him a sickly sweet smile.


	13. Prompt 15

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Fifteen  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Leah/Brady  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Timon**: Look, kid. Bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it. Right?  
**Young Simba**: Right.  
**Timon**: Wrong! When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world.

* * *

My name is Leah Clearwater, and I have superpowers.

Sounds cool, doesn't it? Like maybe I can lift cars or shoot spider webs from my fingertips—something awesome like that.

But no. My superpower is that I can explode into a ball of fur. I'm a werewolf, but not the cool kind that howl at the full moon. No, I shift shape when I get angry.

And when your life sucks as much as mine does, you lose your temper a lot.

I won't bore you with my whole depressing life story right now. No one wants to listen to me whine about my life. That's not what this is about.

This is about what happened after the original story ended. This is about how my broken heart was unceremoniously picked up and shoved back together.

This is about the boy whose name no one knew and how he saved my life.

!~!

Cliff jumping had always been a thing that the 'pack' did together.

At least, that's how everyone else thought of it. I'd never been.

It's like they thought that just because I was a girl I wouldn't want to throw myself off a cliff. Well, I don't really want to explode into a furball, but I do that anyway, don't I?

I didn't bother to let them know that I was annoyed about this. I kept that information hidden away, behind the wall I put up so they couldn't hear my most private thoughts. I was sure they could have figured it out if they tried, but boys are scared of girls; they didn't like to hear my thoughts.

I'd contemplated going alone, sometimes even standing at the top of the cliff with no shoes on, but I never bothered. Cliff jumping was something you had to do with your friends. Otherwise, it would just seem like you were trying to commit suicide.

Trying was likely the operative word.

Isn't life just a peach?

I dug my toes into the hard sand of First Beach and leaned down to pick up a rock, chucking it into the waves when I found that it wasn't as flat as it looked. It had only been a week since Jacob had run off, and he was usually foremost in everyone's thoughts. I, for one, was happy to have him gone. My dreams had thankfully been leech-lover free since Jacob left, and that was the way I liked them.

"Leah?" a voice called from behind me. I turned to see Brady, one of the newest members of the pack, standing on top of the piled up logs. "Emily wants you to come back to the house for dinner," he informed me, his expression apologetic.

I sighed. I knew it wasn't Emily's fault that the love of my life was madly in love with her, but it was hard not to be angry with her when she kept trying to force me into _watching_ them. "I'll pass," I told Brady.

He nodded. "I figured you would." Instead of turning to leave like I thought he would, he hopped down off the log and came over to me.

As he sidled up to me, I braced myself for a questioning about what I thought Jacob was doing and when he was coming back, etcetera, as I'd been getting from Seth lately, but he didn't say anything about Jacob. Instead, he stood next to me, a bit (okay, a lot) closer than I would have liked, and stared out at the ocean.

I waited for him to say something.

I kept waiting.

I waited some more.

He took a deep breath, and I nearly sighed in relief, thinking he was going to say something finally and get away from me.

But no. He breathed out and continued to stand by me, looming over my five foot ten self by three inches or so.

"Um, Brady?"

"Yeah?" he replied. A grin spread over his face as he looked over at me.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes widened, and he bit his lip. "Looking out at the view?"

"And you have to stand this close to me to do it?"

He jumped away from me and stammered out, "N-no."

I raised my eyebrows. He was acting extremely strange, and I wanted to know why. I had never really appreciated the whole mind reading thing until this very moment.

"You know, I think I will come back with you for dinner," I decided, a plan slowly forming in my head. I knew Brady was always desperate to prove himself to the older pack members, so he would definitely accept any challenge I posed him.

Brady wrinkled his eyebrows in my direction. "You will?"

I nodded. "Want to race me there? Wolf form?"

His eyes widened and then narrowed. "I'll race you in human form," he challenged back.

He was on to me, damn it. I shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, but let's get off the beach first."

I led the way up the incline to the space the tourists used as a parking lot, Brady close behind me, and then broke into a jog. I loved running, even as a human, though I could run tens of times faster as a wolf. It seemed like the sound of Brady's sneakers smacking against the gravel next to my bare feet would be annoying and break the whole spell, but I found it didn't even bother me.

Which was weird.

Everything bothers me.

Life bothers me.

I shot a glance over at Brady, then sped up my pace. He matched me without even looking over.

_ Interesting_¸ I thought, and sped up some more.

For a kid, Brady was pretty fucking fast. When I reached the house (before him, of course, but only just), my lungs burned, and I was pretty sure my feet had acquired a few new scars.

Super healing had its pluses.

"You win this time," Brady relented, breathing just as hard as me.

"Just this time?" I teased. "I don't think so."

Brady snorted. "I was going easy on you."

"Again, I don't think so."

He rolled his eyes and gestured to the door. "Ladies first."

I frowned, glancing warily at the door. It was a simple one, constructed of plain old wood with a plain metal doorknob, but it seemed out of the ordinary to me. This was a door that I had rarely walked through and really had no desire to do so anymore than completely necessary.

This wasn't completely necessary in my book.

It seemed I'd paused too long, because Brady was raising his eyebrows at me again. "Are you going in?" he asked.

I winced and gestured for him to go first instead. His eyes full of understanding, he passed me and grabbed the doorknob easily, entering the house with the ease of someone who had been there many times before. I took a deep breath and followed him at a safe distance, trying to hide behind him.

"Hey, Brady, my boy," Paul's voice rang out. "Couldn't convince the she-wolf to come, then? Not a surprise, seeing as she isn't exactly—"

"Paul," Brady tried to interrupt.

"—as grateful as she should be—"

"Paul!"

"—for being allowed—"

"_Paul_!"

"What?" he asked, looking up at Brady with an annoyed expression.

"Leah's here."

Paul looked confused. "Where?"

I let out a breath and stepped out from my hiding place behind Brady. "Don't want me here, I'll leave," I said immediately. I was tempted to hold my hands up as if surrendering, but I managed to stave off the urge.

The entire pack could only stare at me. They all seemed to be trying to speak, except for Sam, who merely regarded me with cool interest in his eyes. I looked away from him quickly, choosing instead to stare at Brady's tanned back as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"No, no, no," Emily said finally, breaking the silence. "You have to stay and eat with us, Leah. Please."

I nodded slowly, still staring at Brady's back. "That's what I came for."

"Good, good. Sit down," Emily continued earnestly, gesturing to an empty place at the table next to Jared. I sat, albeit hesitantly, and shifted my gaze to the wooden table as Brady sat down next to me.

The pack seemed to all wake up then, and the usual banter and eating that I'd seen in their thoughts daily ensued. I grabbed myself a bun out of a basket on the table and began to pick at it.

"So," Jared whispered from beside me, "how did Brady convince you to come?"

The question stumped me. How_ had_ Brady convinced me to come? He had been acting strangely, that was for sure, but I could have always waited to find out what it was about until the next time we happened to be on patrol together.

I shrugged at Jared, and, after he stared at me for a bit, he gave up and went back to talking to Kim.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully, and I jumped up and headed for the door as soon as the first opportunity presented itself.

Sadly, I was intercepted by Emily, who had the hugest grin I'd ever seen on her face. "Leah, I'm so glad you came back," she gushed, tentatively holding her arms out as if for a hug.

I stared at her. I remembered a time when I would hug Emily with no qualms whatsoever, a time when we were the best of friends.

But that was a long time ago.

"I'm not back yet," I said, pushing past her and out of the house.

!~!

My paws squashed the crunchy fall leaves along my patrol route. My mind was blissfully empty of thought, save for the occasional curse word from Brady, who was oddly quiet today.

He was hiding something from me. I couldn't help but wonder what.

_You can give that up, _he thought. _I'm not going to tell you. _Oddly, I could almost hear him thinking _yet_, obviously not intending for me to hear.

_ Tell me what? _I shot back.

There was only a huff in his mind and a projection of a stone wall. I rolled my eyes in their wolf sockets.

_I _will_ find out, _I assured him.

The wall seemed to waver a moment before popping back as clear as ever.

The kid had killer concentration, that was for sure.

I hummed a tune in my head as I trotted along the familiar path. I was in a surprisingly good mood. It was probably a product of being left completely and utterly alone for the past week. If I'd known that was all it took, I would have visited the pack much earlier.

_Wouldn't have had the same effect, _Brady pitched in.

_Did I ask for your opinion?_

He was right, though.

!~!

I always seemed to have patrol with Brady. In fact, I hadn't gone on patrol with anyone else since before I'd gone for dinner at Emily's.

I wondered why when I was human and made note to wonder while a wolf sometime.

I managed to remember to do as such, but Brady made no move to enlighten me. Or, if he did, he hid it behind that insane stone wall of his.

Damn him.

I turned up the volume on my thoughts. I wondered about everything, from why the sky was blue to why my father was dead to, much to my chagrin and only because I was grasping at straws, where Jacob was.

I could practically hear Brady's snort through his wall. The wall presently disappeared. I was rather happy about that, seeing as it was giving me a headache to 'look' at.

_You're obviously pretty desperate,_ Brady thought, _so I'll tell you why you only go on patrol with me. And no, it's not because I'm the only one that can stand you._

If I could have blushed with fur, I would have.

_It's because I asked to be put on patrol with you._

Well, that was the last reason I ever expected. Before I could ask _why_, Brady's thoughts were gone completely. He had shifted back to a human.

I swore to myself and attempted to shift. It didn't work so well, seeing as I was pretty ticked off at Brady for just leaving me like that.

I sensed someone shifting. It was Collin, Brady's best friend. He tossed me a hello and started circuiting the trodden path without further comment.

My main thought consisted of three words: _what, the, _and _fuck._

Apparently Collin wasn't talking, so to speak. No doubt he knew what Brady was going on about.

_I don't, actually, _he thought suddenly.

_You don't? _I was genuinely surprised by this.

_Nope. He won't tell me a thing._

_ Huh._

We were mostly quiet for a moment before he directed a thought at me.

_You can go, if you want._

I did want. _Thanks, Collin._

_ No prob, _I heard as I shifted back to human form.

After donning the clothes I had tied around my ankle, I decided to kill time by lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling.

This was how I always thought privately—or as private as it got when you were a freakin' wolf. I wasn't sure why, but it always seemed to help me think clearly.

Maybe the light fixture had magical powers.

I had been staring at said light fixture for a good half hour before the answer popped into my head like it had never been gone.

_Brady _liked _me._

I kicked myself for not realizing it sooner. Before I had time to contemplate the implications of said crush, the phone rang, and, being the only one home, I assumed I had better answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Leah?"

"Brady?"

"Yeah, um. I didn't really expect you to be home."

"Were you calling for Seth?" I asked, even though I had a feeling he hadn't been. "I can take a message."

"No, no." He coughed in a manner that suggested he was clearing his throat. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

"Yeah? I was kinda ticked beyond belief that you just left me to do patrol alone." I leaned against the wall by the phone and twirled the cord around my finger.

"I did not," he said indignantly. "I sent Collin."

I rolled my eyes involuntarily. "You were avoiding me."

He was quiet. I waited for him to reply, but soon wondered if he had actually hung up and I hadn't noticed the click.

"I think I know why," I added.

I could almost see Brady's eyebrows raise. "Oh?"

"Mhm. You like me, don't you."

There was a pregnant pause. "Who told you?"

"So you admit it!" I crowed. I'd been sure he was going to deny it.

"Who was it?" he pressed, his tone angry.

"No one told me. I figured it out."

"You did?" Brady sounded surprised.

"I'm not stupid, Brady. I've been alive longer than you have."

"About that..." he said hesitantly, "is it an issue? Because if it is, I'll just give up and go find someone to imprint on or something."

I wasn't sure what to say.

Basically, I was speechless.

Since when was Leah Clearwater speechless?

"I'll call you back," I spat out, slamming the phone down in its cradle. It promptly bounced back out from the force, and I replaced it, softly this time.

I returned to my thinking place. Of course, Seth chose that moment to bounce into my bedroom and throw himself at my feet. "Hey, Leah."

"Get out," I ordered.

"No. I heard the phone ring just as I got home. Who was it?"

"Brady."

"Did he leave a message?"

"It wasn't for you," I snapped.

I saw Seth's eyes widen from the awkward view I had of him. He looked like a goldfish.

"_Brady_ wanted to talk to _you_?"

I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked at him. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"That my guy friend wants to talk to my bat of an older sibling? Of course it's hard to believe."

"Well, I find it hard to believe that the leech lover wants to talk to you," I shot back.

"Don't bring Bella into this," Seth protested. I raised an eyebrow at him, a trick I'd been perfecting for years. He sighed. "He's been acting weird lately."

"Brady?"

"Yes, Brady. It's like he's hiding something."

"Huh." I knew what it was he was hiding, but I wasn't about to enlighten Seth. "Will you get out of my room, now?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, dragging himself off my bed and giving me an over exaggerated salute before leaving.

I contemplated Seth's words. I understood how he could think it hard to believe—Brady was younger than he was. I frowned. Was that an issue?

It seemed like an issue.

Before I could rationalize further, I was interrupted _again._ "Leah," my mother intoned from the doorway. "We're going out for dinner. Let's go."

Much to my chagrin, I was forced to sit through dinner at the local diner, which consisted of Seth shoving his face with fries while Sue tried to give us yet another pep talk. There was also talk of Jacob, wherein I was asked if I'd heard from him.

Honestly, if Jacob was going to contact someone, I would probably be the last person on his mind. Even if he had, didn't they think I would _tell_ them?

I escaped from that later than I would have liked and headed down to the beach, just because I thought I'd asked too much of my light fixture already.

It was the ocean's turn.

I found myself an empty patch of sand and sat down, absentmindedly picking up a rock and rolling it around in my hand.

The waves crashed in and petered out. I guessed the tide was coming in, but I was always really bad at that kind of stuff.

I pondered the idea of being in a relationship. It was something I'd never really thought about after Sam and especially not after I'd first exploded into a ball of fur.

I'd pretty much lost all hope when I realized I was a genetic dead end. What kind of guy would want a girl that couldn't even have his kids for him?

I should probably turn down Brady and tell him to go imprint on some chick that could have babies for him.

For some reason, the thought unnerved me. I didn't _want_ to turn Brady away, despite all the good reasons that I should.

_Can't I just have one thing for me? _I thought desperately, then shook my head. What kind of reasoning was that? I didn't even like Brady like that.

_But you could, _a little voice in the back of my head piped. _If you dropped your guard, who knows what could happen._

"Leah?"

I looked up to see one tall, tanned, board short no shirt wearing hunk of muscle looming over me.

_Oh, shit._

"Weren't you supposed to call me back?" Brady teased.

I scowled. "How did you know I was here?"

"Seth said you were probably hanging out here. Looks like he was right."

He settled himself on the sand next to me, resting his arms outstretched on his bent knees. His heels dug into the sand as he turned his head to look at me, his hair falling in his eyes. I was struck by how good looking he was—the last time I'd really noticed Brady, he'd been a long haired and long limbed awkward teenager.

"Looks like it," I muttered.

Brady just looked at me, successfully freaking me out.

"You look older than you are," I said, trying to kill some of the awkward tension.

He grinned. "That's because this wolf shit made me age a ton in no time. I'm like in my mid-twenties and I'm only sixteen." The grin faded. "Kind of sucks, actually."

I nodded. I hadn't thought of that—it made the age difference seem almost irrelevant.

Brady stopped looking at me, turning his head to stare out at the waves instead. He looked so deep in thought that I didn't dare to disturb him.

All of a sudden, his hand was wrapped around mine as he pulled me to my feet. "I want to show you something," he said, tugging lightly on my arm. I followed him, albeit a bit hesitantly.

He led me to the edge of the woods, then paused. "It might be better if we phase to get there. Or we could drive."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

I sighed. "Don't watch." When I was sure he was turned the other way, I stripped and phased, then sat back on my haunches, looking at Brady. He was holding his hands behind his back, his weight shifted to his right as he focused his gaze on the top of the treeline.

I decided he hadn't heard me phase and stepped forward to prod his leg with my nose. He must have jumped a foot. I would have laughed if a wolf could laugh.

I didn't want to try it out and see what noise came out.

I turned my back on Brady politely, and it was only a moment before he phased. I almost expected the stone wall to appear in my mind again, but instead he thought _Never scare me like that again._

_ How else was I supposed to get your attention?_

He ignored that. _This way._ He set off into the woods, me on his heels.

We ran in relative silence. I couldn't help but try to figure out where we were going, which made Brady slightly annoyed.

We were almost there when I realized where _there_ was.

_Why are we going to the cliff?_ I asked.

Wolf-Brady shook his head. _Don't look, _he thought. I looked away from him and felt his thoughts slip away. I phased myself, pulling on my clothes quickly.

"Maybe you should keep those off," Brady suggested from behind me.

I spun around and snorted indignantly. "You wish."

He smiled. "Just teasing, don't worry."

I glanced toward the edge of the cliff. It, along with the nature of Brady's teasing, made me think of Jacob, this being the last place I'd seen him. Anger nudged its way into my head as I remembered his last words to me—harping on me for being obsessed with Sam.

I wished I hadn't missed when I'd spat at him. He deserved it.

"Leah?" Brady's worried voice cut into my thoughts, making me realize that I'd been shaking.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to smile at him.

He laughed. "Your smile looks strange. You never smile." He was right. I hadn't really smiled in a long time.

I desperately wanted that to change.

"What are we doing here?"

"Cliff jumping," Brady said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I frowned. "I've never been cliff jumping."

"I know," he said, and I felt like kicking myself. Of course he knew. He knew everything.

"So why would you think I want to do it now?"

He snorted. "Leah, you're part of the pack. I think you deserve a little respect. Everyone thinks cliff jumping is something we all do together, but no one's ever invited you."

I could only stare at him.

"You pretend like it doesn't bother you, but I know that it does."

"I thought no one paid attention to me," I mumbled.

"I'm not as afraid of girls as some," he joked. He gestured toward the cliff. "You want to go first?"

I did want to go first. I was afraid that if he jumped first I would chicken out and leave him in the water alone, wondering what the hell had happened.

I curled my toes around the edge of the cliff and looked down at the water. "You sure that the current isn't going to pull me to my death?" I asked.

"I'm sure," Brady assured me.

"Don't leave me hanging in the water alone," I warned him, suddenly aware of the reverse situation.

He wrinkled his eyebrows. "I wouldn't want you to be worried about that." Brady grabbed my hand. "I'll come with you."

Oddly, instead of being annoyed because I could handle things myself, I was actually happy that he was coming with me.

"On three," he said. "One."

"Two."

"Three!"

We jumped.

And then we fell.

And then we hit the water.

It was cold, but it was a good kind of cold, the kind of cold that the other side of the pillow was. It felt like magic, having been light years away from the water one second and then having it swirling around me the next.

I broke the surface with a gasp, looking around for Brady, whose hand I had lost hold of at some point.

"Boo." I whipped around in the water, grabbing ahold of Brady's shoulder.

"You scared me!"

He laughed, finding my other hand with his and threading his fingers through mine. "Fun?"

"Can we go again?"

"I knew you'd like it," he said. The rising moon reflected off his eyes, giving them a glowing quality. I thought it was pretty damn gorgeous.

"Love it," I murmured.

Brady didn't say anything. He just looked at me in that way he always did, and I could swear I saw his eyes flicking from mine down to my lips and back.

_I feel like I'm in a cheesy movie, _I thought to myself. _What the hell._

I pressed my lips to his. He tasted like salt, and when he kissed me back, I could feel something in the pit of my stomach, the something I hadn't felt in a long time.

The something that I'd thought was broken when Sam left me.

And in that moment I knew. I knew without a doubt. Jacob didn't matter. Sam didn't matter. Emily didn't matter. Seth didn't matter. No one fucking mattered.

All that mattered was me and the feeling of my heart slowly being stitched back together.


	14. Prompt 10

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Ten  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Jacob/Nessie  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Zazu**: Oh, just look at you two. Little seeds of romance blossoming in the savannah.

* * *

Jacob's bike tires crunched through the fall leaves, Nessie's following shortly after.

"I'm gonna beat you to your house!" Jake teased.

"Nuh uh!" Nessie called after him, standing up and peddling harder.

Bella watched them from the porch, smiling. They were great friends, and she could just see them growing up to become something more.

They rode up on the lawn at the same time, dropping their bikes unceremoniously on the grass.

"Mom, can Jake and I have some cookies?" Nessie asked.

"Sure, honey. They're inside. Hi, Jacob."

"Hello, Mrs. Cullen. How are you?"

He was such a young gentleman.


	15. Prompt 9

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Nine  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Demetri/Rosalie  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Mufasa's Ghost: **You are more than what you have become.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a little boy that loved to paint. He wasn't too bad at painting, either. All his art teachers raved about his work, hanging it in the best spots in the hallways and encouraging him to go on with his art.

However, the boy's parents didn't approve. Sure, they'd always ooh'd and ahh'd over his drawings when he was little, but after awhile it got old. When he showed them something he'd done, they'd look at it, nod, and go back to whatever they were doing.

It was either being completely ignored or enduring a lecture on the value of a proper career choice and complaints about why he wasn't like his older brother.

Years later and he could still hear them whispering in his head—"_Why can't you be like Felix, Demetri?"_

Just because Felix was following in their father's footsteps and becoming a lawyer. Just because Felix was an all-star athlete. Just because Felix got good grades without even trying.

Just because Demetri wasn't good enough.

He tried to be good enough once he realized what that would take. He quit his art class and joined extracurricular sports. He went to parties. He studied his ass off and managed at least A minuses in almost all his classes. He got himself a girlfriend.

His parents didn't seem to notice.

One fateful day, his girlfriend at the time, Irina, found an old painting of Demetri's in the back of his closet. She immediately interrogated him about it and insisted that he shouldn't stop with the art.

"Why not?" he'd asked, sitting cross-legged on his bed and staring blankly at Irina. "Why should I keep doing it when my family hates me for it?"

Irina had pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips. "Because, Demetri," she had said, "you can make them _jealous._"

It was a different game from then on. Gone were the sports that he'd never been any good at and returned were the art classes. He was good enough that they gave him free credits for the half of a semester that he'd quit for.

Eventually he graduated from high school and made plans to go to university—for art, of course. This provoked an outrage from Demetri's father, who insisted he go to Harvard Law School.

"Dad," Demetri said through his father's rant. "Dad! Listen to me!"

"No, Demetri. It's obvious you can't make a proper decision for yourself, and so I will make it for you. You will _not_ go to school for those petty art projects you do. You can't make a living off of that."

"How are you going to stop me?" Demetri challenged. "Cornell is a perfectly good Ivy League school. I don't see why you have a problem with this!" He waved his acceptance letter in front of his father's face like it contained the key to life.

"I will not _pay_ for my son to paint pretty pictures like a five year old. That's my final word. Get out of my sight."

Demetri turned and left his father's study, determined to make Cornell work somehow. He found his mother in the kitchen, baking some sort of food—at least, he thought it was food.

"He only wants to help you," she murmured, seeming to be speaking to the dough she was kneading.

Demetri snorted. "If he wanted to help me, he would help me," he said matter-of-factly, just like it was the simplest concept in the world.

And to him, it was.

!~!

Rosalie was Demetri's girlfriend since he'd dumped Irina and the pretence of being cool. Having had a crush on Demetri and his painting skills since she was young, Rose had been more than willing to say yes when he asked her out back in twelfth grade.

Now, though, she wasn't sure where the boy she'd said yes to had gone.

Cornell out of the picture, Demetri had managed to get a full ride scholarship to a lesser known college—the same one Rosalie was attending, she'd been ecstatic to hear. They'd lived on campus for the duration of their college years, but now they were graduating, they had decided to get their own apartment together.

Well, Demetri had decided. Rosalie had just agreed.

The apartment was Demetri's new obsession. Working his way through the elite world that was art business, he was determined to prove himself to his colleagues by throwing a house warming party.

This meant that the apartment had to be perfect. Demetri was poring over a book of paint colour tabs and harping to no one in particular about whether their cutlery would ship in time for the party when Rosalie just couldn't take it anymore.

"Demetri," Rosalie started, "would you mind stopping the obsessing for one minute and listening to me?"

"What, sorry?"

"I said, stop obsessing and listen to me!"

Demetri looked up from the book. "What's your problem?"

"What's my _problem_? Wow, that's a really hard question. There are a lot of things," Rosalie spouted off sarcastically. "First and foremost being you."

Demetri could only stare at her, attempting to form words in response. Rosalie just waited. "I don't get it," he finally said.

"Of course you don't. It's just that the boy I fell in love with back in high school is gone. I started dating you because I knew you weren't like everyone else, you know? You weren't into the whole hierarchy thing, and you liked to paint instead of play football. I knew the carefree spirit of your childhood was slipping away, but I assumed it was normal when you're growing up. But this, this, Demetri, is not normal. It's like you can't think of anything but you anymore. Where you're going, what you're going to do, what other people think of you—since when do you care what other people think of you?"

Demetri just stared at Rosalie. _She's breathing kind of heavily_, he thought stupidly.

Rosalie shook her head. "I don't know this person you've become," she said. "It's like there should be something more, but there's not."

"Are you done?" Demetri asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

She just looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I'm done." Rosalie picked up her purse and walked over to the door. "Goodbye," she said, and then she was gone, the doorframe vibrating behind her.

Demetri stared blankly at the door from his place on the couch, then stood up, running a hand through his hair like he did when he was thinking really hard.

Except he wasn't thinking anything at that particular moment.

He wandered around the apartment. It was all done, save for the kitchen and the dining room. Demetri wandered over to the window in the dining room and looked out at the greenery that was growing in front of the apartment buildings across the street. He'd picked this apartment for its view of the natural life in the middle of a fake city. He had known that Rosalie would love it.

It occurred to him that he'd never actually told Rose that.

He considered her words. Deep down, he knew she was right, but a part of him wanted to insist that she just didn't get it. She didn't get what he was going through. She didn't understand his motives.

But that was the problem, right? It wasn't her that didn't get it, it was him.

He was an ignorant asshole.

He'd always wanted to be known. To prove himself to his parents. He'd just wanted to make them jealous. He didn't know who 'them' was, but that's what he wanted.

Demetri stared out the window, scuffing his shoes on the hardwood floor.

All of a sudden he just wanted Rosalie.


	16. Prompt 25

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Twenty-five  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Leah/Bella  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Mufasa**: Look, Simba. Everything the light touches is our kingdom.

* * *

"You really think we can do this?"

"Of course we can. Let's ditch this town."

"But I feel so bad leaving everyone behind..."

"You don't think there's a whole 'nother life waiting for you out there? Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It died when he did."

Leah's face softened. "Hey, I miss my dad and Charlie, too. That's why we've got to get away, remember?"

"I don't know..."

"Just look at that sky. Doesn't it make you think that there has to be something better out there for us?"

Bella reached out and took Leah's hand. "Together?"

"BFF," Leah agreed.


	17. Prompt 4

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Four  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Nessie/Alec  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Scar**: It's your fault he's dead. Do you deny it?  
**Adult Simba**: No.  
**Scar**: Then you're guilty.

* * *

It's bad to know someone died.

It's worse to have known the person.

Even worse still is watching the person die.

The worst?

Causing their death.

!~!

The water in the creek next to the train tracks was really cold. Someone had said something about it being glacier run off, but I knew that wasn't true, because they had been able to drain out some of the water, and I was pretty sure you couldn't do that when a glacier was feeding it.

I was also pretty sure there were no glaciers near here.

Glacier run off or not, it was cold. Almost as cold, I thought to myself, as a dead boy's cheek when you touched it lightly with your finger.

That was a different kind of cold, though. Sort of an imagined cold. Dead bodies would actually be room temperature, wouldn't they?

Room temperature or not, it had felt cold to me.

I contemplated cold things. I classified my heart as a cold thing.

I didn't really think murderers could love. Not properly, anyway.

The water streamed quietly around my boots, the ripples from my stepping into it gone now. I shifted my feet and they came back, waving out from my body. I likened them to people, people who were afraid of me now, afraid that maybe I'd lure them to their deaths, too.

My mother had tried to convince me that it had just been an accident. Of course I hadn't killed Alec. Of course no one blamed me that he was at this very moment being lowered into the ground in a fancy coffin, death formalized.

My fault or not, I had seen the look in his parents' eyes. They blamed me. I blamed me.

One thing we agreed on, one thing for once.

Alec might have been happy about that one. But he would never be happy again.

Death wasn't formal. It was messy.

I looked down at the water and saw his face disappearing below the surface. I sat down abruptly and took a deep breath, pulling my knees up to my chest. My dress floated to the surface, bubbling around me like a T-shirt in a whirlpool. I glared at the white fabric, white because I hated black and so did Alec.

Had Alec.

I just wanted to be alone. That was why I was sitting in the creek, wasn't it? Because I wanted to go somewhere where I'd never be found.

They wouldn't expect me to go to the place where he'd died.

It was cold enough to hibernate here, I decided. I could tunnel under the snow and just lie there. No one would find me under the snow drifts.

Hibernating or not, I assumed they wouldn't even be looking regardless.

It was uncomfortable to sit in the freezing cold water. I was sure I was going to get frostbite out here like this, but I wasn't too concerned about comfort. Alec wasn't comfortable, therefore I shouldn't be comfortable. That wouldn't be fair.

Of course, it wasn't exactly _fair_ that he had died while I was still alive.

It was entirely possible that the snow could have collapsed underneath me and sent me flailing under the water. I didn't know how to swim, either. It could easily have been me inhaling water, trying to reach the surface to grab something, anything, to pull myself out.

It should have been me.

It had been my idea to see how far we could walk along the edge of the creek. I had decided we would go on opposite sides. I had said that the snow had to be frozen enough not to break.

My idea or not, the snow had not been frozen enough.

I could hear a train in the distance. I considered waiting for it to get here and then jumping in front of it. Trains couldn't stop abruptly, could they? Even if I just went and laid on the tracks now, it wouldn't be able to stop in time, would it?

Able to stop or not, I knew I wouldn't be doing it. I was too much of a fucking wimp. If I wanted to kill myself, it would have to be one of those suicides where you pay someone to kill you when you're not expecting it.

Besides, I could hardly move, my muscles were so cold.

But that was just an excuse.

I wondered what was happening back at the funeral. It seemed ironic to be thinking about the very thing I'd just escaped, but that was what I was doing. I decided that the basic scene would be sobbing high schoolers and sobbing relatives and some tears from his parents while everyone shoved their faces full of food and avoided talking about him.

I was glad I'd escaped. I knew I'd be the only one there who wouldn't cry. I wasn't sure if that was because I was a heartless bitch or because I was in that awkward stage with him, the one where I loved him but I didn't know exactly what I was loving yet.

I could cry for the boy who'd died, but I'd rather cry for the man who'd never lived.

For the boy or not, I hadn't shed a single tear. Not even while I was watching him die. Not even when I realized he was dead. Not even when I'd come across him in my contact list when I was going to call my sister.

I decided my heart wasn't just cold. I really had no heart at all.

The train had finally reached me. I could hear it passing by, but I couldn't see it properly. For some reason, I pulled myself up, hugging my chest, and just watched it. It had a lot of graffiti on it, just like a million other trains, victims of rebellious teens trying to act out against the world in general through a can of spray paint.

Alec had always wanted to graffiti a train. He'd even bought spray paint. I remembered that it had disappeared, but he hadn't told me where it had gone and I hadn't asked.

I wished I'd asked.

Heartless or not, I was pretty sure that was the thought that finally broke me.


	18. Prompt 17

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Seventeen  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Marcus  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Adult Simba**: You can't change the past. You said you'd always be there for me. But you're not.

* * *

I stared up at the ceiling from my position on the bed. A pattern was created by light refracting from the chandelier, and I remembered how Didyme had spent hours threading the diamonds onto the strings and putting it together.

It was amazing how many things reminded me of her.

_Breathing_ reminded me of her. Her memory hurt me with every heartbeat I didn't have, through every cell. Even my thirst didn't prevail in my mind as much as Didyme did.

I wanted nothing more than to be dead, to be where she was.

But I was frozen in time.


	19. Prompt 20

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Twenty  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Jessica  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Rafiki**: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it.

* * *

Look, I know I'm a teenager and it's typical for teenagers to have problems with their families, but I'm pretty sure my situation is different.

You're probably snorting at this already. Stop it. I'm serious.

I can't stand it anymore. No matter what I tell my foster parents, they just smile and say "That's nice, honey," and go back to talking about politics or some shit.

Who cares about politics? Your daughter—albeit not your biological one—is having major life issues and would like someone to talk to.

But you just want her to make supper for you.

The other night I told my so-called mother I was considering committing suicide.

She smiled and said something about weeding the garden. It's obvious she only wants two things from me—free labour and a welfare check.

So I'm officially done. I've got my suitcase packed, a Greyhound ticket to somewhere that's not here, and a goodbye letter for the people masquerading as my parents.

I'm kind of assuming they're not going to read it, but I'll leave it on the table anyway.

!~!

It's a lovely Monday morning. Both my foster parents have jobs that require them to leave at ridiculously early times, so I'm free to walk out of the house, dragging my suitcase behind me, unquestioned.

Except for Cute Neighbour Boy, otherwise known as Mike. He has other plans.

"Jess!" he calls from the end of his driveway. "Walk to the bus stop with me?"

I hesitate, then shake my head at him. "I can't."

He walks over to me, eyeing my suitcase. "You going somewhere?"

"Um, yeah..." My brain runs a mile a minute, trying to come up with an excuse. "That camping trip, you know? I'm going on that."

I pray he doesn't realize that the junior class camping trip started yesterday.

If he does, he doesn't let on. "Oh, cool. I'll see you when you get back, then."

"Yep," I reply.

"Have fun," he says, giving me an odd look.

"I will," I say awkwardly, wishing he would just walk away now.

He pauses, still looking at me, for just a moment too long before turning away. I watch him walk down the block, an odd feeling in my stomach, before turning in the other direction and heading toward the Greyhound station.

If I were to miss one thing in this Godforsaken town, it would be Cute Neighbour Boy.

!~!

I lean my head back on the hard bus stop bench and sigh. I'm considering napping—after all, I've been waiting for the bus for at least an hour—but I figure I would have enough time to do that once I was actually on said bus. I definitely did not want to miss it; according to the dilapidated schedule posted on the wall inside the bus stop, it's due to arrive any minute—ten minutes ago.

I'd had a serious lapse in judgement and managed to get lost, having totally forgotten _where_ exactly the Greyhound stop was. When I was sure I was completely lost, I'd found the nearest convenience store, bought myself a package of M&M's, asked where the Greyhound stopped, and followed the acne faced teenager's directions to this bench, where I've been sitting for longer than I want to admit. The people who walk past on the streets probably think I'm a bum—and, I realize, they are right. I have no home to speak of now that I've left my house behind with no plans to go back to it. The thought shocks me.

_I'm a bum,_ I think to myself. _A homeless person. I'm going to live in a cardboard box. _I am excessively amused by the thought. I elongate the word 'bum' in my mind, chuckling to myself.

It's then that the sound of airbrakes jerks me into alertness. I look up to see the Greyhound parked in front of me with the doors open, the driver glaring down at me. I gather up my suitcase and turn to get on.

"You got the money to pay, little girl?" the driver asks, peering over his wire framed glasses. I glare at him and shove my ticket at him before brushing past him. I drop down onto the scratchy upholstery of a seat near the middle of the bus and breath out heavily. It seems so final, being on the bus. Like I'm really not coming back.

I dig my iPod out of my suitcase and shove the earphones in, leaning my head against the window as the Greyhound begins to move. I drift in and out of sleep for the passing hours of the bus ride. I don't know where exactly I'm going—I figure I'll just get off somewhere that looks interesting, wherever that may happen to be.

There's one horribly disturbing moment where I wake up to find a large man with fucked up teeth and disgusting body odour sitting next to me, leering in my direction. I cringe and hastily get up, not wasting any time pondering his feelings.

_I did not get away from my terrible ass "home" just to sit next to Godzilla,_ I think as I sit back down a fair few rows back and settle in to go back to sleep.

When I wake up, it's hot and humid. Sunlight is pouring through the windows and into my eyes, making me squint. My iPod has stopped playing music, and when I try to turn it on to see what time it is, the message that commands me to charge it pops up. I sigh and wrap the earphone cords around it before shoving it into my backpack.

The Greyhound rolls to a stop, and I decided it's as good a time as any to get off. I gather up my suitcase and wave goodbye to the driver, who glares at me. I snort to myself. I am generally feeling good about myself at the moment—I don't know if it's all the sleep I have evidently gotten or because I am finally miles and miles away from anywhere that my faux parents are or some other messed up reason.

My stomach growls, alerting me to the fact that I'm starving. And no wonder, the most I've eaten in however long it had taken to get to wherever here is was a package of M&M's. Not real sustaining, I would think. I spot a gas station just up the road from where I'm standing and start toward it.

Once inside, I wander the aisles, looking for something to get. Everything looks so good—rows upon rows of chips, gummy candy all hanging at eye level, the chocolate bars calling my name. I'm practically drooling all over the dirty gas station floor.

Suddenly it all seems like too much, like I can't breathe. I look around frantically and spot a bathroom. I quickly duck into it and lock the door behind me, breathing heavily.

I lean against my suitcase and then the counter, laying my forehead on the mirror to try to get my breathing under control. What am I doing all the way out here? It seems like only yesterday I was spying on the cute boys at the park and giggling over magazines with my best friends.

That all changed when my parents died, though.

I splash water on my face and let myself out of the bathroom, dragging my suitcase with me.

I'm met with what you wouldn't exactly call a normal day at the 7-11.

A person wearing a mask is pointing a gun toward the cashier, who's staring toward them blankly. As I watch, almost in slow motion, the robber pulls the trigger and the clerk drops to the floor. I duck behind a display of boxes full of cans of soda and watch, horrified, as the masked person quickly goes behind the counter and empties the cash register into the bag they're carrying.

When they walk back out, they leave footprints of blood behind them. I look at the scene in front of me but imagine a different one, one where the blood is pooling at the bottom of familiar steps and the killer isn't wearing a mask...

By some trick of luck, the robber doesn't even notice me. I crawl out from behind the display and run out of the store, avoiding looking toward the counter.

I locate a pay phone I'd seen but not noticed earlier. I find a quarter in my pocket, but, as it tells me in big print on the front, the pay phone doesn't accept coins. I'm forced to start digging through my suitcase for a one dollar bill, which I eventually find and shove into the machine, dialling the first number that pops into my head.

"Hello?"

"Mike," I gasp out. I don't stop to wonder why he's answering my home phone.

"Jessica? Thank God. Everyone here is freaking out—"

"She's dead. The person shot her. Oh, fuck."

"What? Where are you?"

"I don't know, but someone just robbed the convenience store and killed the cashier. Oh my God, Mike, I don't know what to do."

He's quiet for a moment before saying, "Jess, listen to me carefully. You need to call the police, okay? You need to—"

The phone cuts off and the automated voice saying to insert more money to continue the call comes on. I slam the phone down and stare at it. I glance to the side and see '911' written in huge block print next to it.

I hit my head against the phone booth wall and pick up the phone again. You would have thought I'd remember when not dialling that number was probably the reason I was even here in the first place.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"


	20. Prompt 5

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Five  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Jasper/Alice  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Nala**: What's happened to you? You're not the Simba I remember.  
**Adult Simba**: You're right, I'm not. Now are you satisfied?  
**Nala**: No, just disappointed.

* * *

I fiddled with the ribbon on the package of papers she'd given me all those years ago. Read them, she'd said, and I'd be able to find her when I came back from the war.

I'd faithfully kept them by my side, and, once I'd returned stateside, I'd untied the ribbon.

I looked over at the sleeping beauty in the bed next to me, laying a hand on her black curls. She was more than I'd ever hoped for.

I slipped away, tossing out the papers before getting my coffee.

It was her loss.

Scars did not a person make.


	21. Prompt 3

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Three  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Alice/Jasper  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Scar**: Life's not fair, is it?

* * *

_Deep breath. Deeper breath. Calm. Breathe. Just breathe. You're going to be fine._

"No, God damn it," I muttered.

"What's that, Ali?" my best friend, Bella, asked.

"Uh, just... oh, Bells, why are you making me do this?"

She grinned one of her evil grins. "I'm sorry, but I can't take another minute of you talking about him. It's better that he listen to you ramble than me."

I frowned. "I don't want to," I told her.

"Deep down, you do."

"Nope."

"You'll thank me for this one day!"

She pushed me.

Right as he was walking past.

I smashed into him.

_Damn her straight to hell! _

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I blurted out.

He grinned that gorgeous grin with the dimple. I nearly fainted. "It's all right," he said. "I'm Jasper. Who might you be?"

"I'm, uh, I'm Alice."

"Alice. And is this wonderland?"

I blushed. "Well, uh, my mom, she, uh, she loves those books."

"So you really are Alice, then?"

"No, I was named after my, um, grandma."

"Jasper! Come on!" his friend yelled from behind me. I braced myself for a quick rejection.

But Jasper waved his hand at his friends. "Go on without me. I'm going to stay and talk with Alice."

"Oooh, _Alice_," his friends chorused. I turned to see them wiggling their fingers at him, stupid grins on their faces. I could feel the fire in my cheeks burning. I chanced a glance in Bella's direction. She beamed and gave me a thumbs up.

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Sorry about that," he said to me.

"It's okay. I, uh, I get that boys do that. I, er, have a brother."

"Ah," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Should I be afraid of this brother?"

I blinked. "Um, no?"

He laughed. "Not unless I'm planning something?"

"What would you, um, be planning?"

Jasper looked at me a moment, then put his arm around my shoulders and started to guide me toward a corner of the room with plush chairs set up. "I'm not planning anything."

"Er, okay."

"Why don't you sit here while I go get us some drinks?" he suggested. I nodded and sat down on the red chair, tucking my black skirt neatly beneath me.

He was barely gone for a minute when Bella popped up next to me. "So?"

"So what?"

"So, what are you guys talking about?"

"Alice in Wonderland, whether or not he's planning something, and how boys act. He went to get drinks."

"Planning something?" Bella raised her eyebrows in a manner I assumed was supposed to be sexy or suggestive or something.

"Yes. He says he's not."

"Well, that's no good."

"I don't get it."

Bella just clucked her tongue at me. "Here he comes!" she squealed. "Stop stammering at him."

And she was gone.

_ I really don't get it_, I thought, annoyed.

"Here you go," Jasper said, handing me a red punch cup.

I looked at the liquid hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Try it. It's good."

I considered saying something about how I was against underage drinking and didn't want to drink any alcohol, but I didn't want to seem like I was a total social reject, so I just took a small sip.

_Fuck, that burns. _It was definitely alcohol.

"So, Alice," Jasper said after taking a large swig out of his cup, "do you live around here?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I actually have a permanent, uh, house just down the beach."

"Year rounder, then. I'm just here for the summer."

_Oh, I know._ I'd seen him come and go for enough summers to be privy to these small details.

"Where are you, er, staying?"

He slurped on his cup before answering. "Here, actually. My parents are seeing a play in the city tonight, so I thought I'd throw a good party."

"Is it a good party?" I asked.

He paused, giving me a weird look, before answering. "It's getting there."

Getting there or getting nowhere, I was practically sweating my ass off in the house. The fishnets Bella had insisted I should wear were rubbing against my legs and making me really, really itchy.

"I'm going to get some air," I said abruptly, putting my cup down on the stool in front of me.

"All right," Jasper muttered, taking another sip of his drink. I grimaced and made my way outside.

I could smell smoke wafting through the screen door as I approached it and was assaulted by clouds of it the moment I pushed the door open and stepped out. I fought the urge to cough until I was down the steps and away from the smokers.

I inhaled the fresh ocean air like I was possessed. I had almost zero desire to go back inside. I wanted to just walk down the beach and crawl into bed and fucking _take off these stupid fishnets._

But... Jasper was in there. The Jasper I'd been crushing on for years was in there and he had been talking to _me._ It was like a dream come true.

Bella had been right. I definitely needed to thank her for this.

I held my breath as I walked up the steps and went back inside. I made a beeline for where I'd left Jasper.

And then I stopped dead in my tracks.

Because right in front of me was Jasper, right where I'd left him. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was who was in front of him, leaning down to kiss him on the lips.

_Bella._

I turned and ran. I ran out the screen door and through the smoke and down the stairs. I continued down the beach, the moon the only thing lighting the way so I wouldn't trip over something.

Of course, I managed to trip anyway, a hazard of wearing heels, and hit the sand hard.

I lay there a moment, trying simultaneously to catch my breath and hold back my tears. It was a losing battle.

Just like I always lost everything.


	22. Prompt 23

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Twenty-three  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Jared/Kim  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Young Nala**: Pinned you again.

* * *

"I never thought this day would come."

I looked down at her. "What day?"

"The day I would have someone to kiss when the fireworks go off on New Year's Eve."

I laughed softly. "Well, with Jacob and those guys down there trying to light the fireworks, I'm not sure it's going to be good. I see burns impending."

"It'll be fine."

"How are you so sure?"

"Well, you are a superhero that can heal in no time and move at the speed of light."

"Touché. Now, how about we forget them and create our own fireworks?"

"Works for me."


	23. Prompt 24

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Twenty-four  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Emmett/Rosalie  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Young Simba**: I can't marry her. She's my friend.  
**Young Nala**: Yeah. It'd be so weird.

* * *

There she was again. Just like every morning.

She leaned over her balcony railing, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she looked down at the people walking up and down the sidewalk. Her robe was always tied almost too loosely and her fingers held an ever present cigarette.

Emmett wondered when she had started smoking. He'd never seen her smoke in high school.

But it's not like Rosalie Hale ever looked at him in high school. She wasn't looking at him now.

!~!

Back in preschool, Rosalie had been best friends with a curly haired boy who liked to play with toy cars. She liked to play with toy cars back then, too. Being in preschool, the concept of sharing was a big thing for us. The teachers were always breaking the boy and Rosalie up, telling them they needed to _share_ the toys.

It took awhile, but they finally figured out how to do as such. They remained friends until that time when boys and girls are suddenly foreign to each other, sometime around the fourth grade. Rosalie was fairly sure they went to the same middle school, but she'd never seen him at her high school.

Rosalie wondered what Emmett McCarty was doing with his life. She decided it had to be something better than what she was doing with hers.

!~!

Emmett took the bus to work. That wasn't such a big deal. The big deal was that he took the _wrong_ bus to work.

He had accidentally taken this bus route his first day on the job. And on that fateful day, he'd seen Rosalie on her balcony. It had taken a couple days for him to realize that there was another, quicker, bus that he could be taking, but he'd persisted with this one. He wasn't giving up my daily Rose sightings.

Emmett thought that might be a bit insane.

He wondered what had happened to Rosalie. He remembered her as being happy. She didn't look so happy anymore.

Someday, he was going to ask her. He was going to go to her apartment building, and he was going to buzz her apartment, and he was going to have a nice conversation with her over tea or something.

Just not today.

!~!

Someday Rosalie was going to get a job. She was going to get up off her ass and make up a resume to give to every place she could possibly work at that wasn't too far away.

She was going to stop. Stop everything.

But today wasn't the day for that.

!~!

It was a total chance occurrence. Rosalie had ventured out of her apartment in search of sustenance, and Emmett was not shopping at this grocery store because it was close to her apartment, he was shopping at it because it was close to his work.

He wasn't sure who he was fooling with that one.

And so they met again. She didn't recognize the man who had grabbed the same tomato as she had, but he seemed to be looking at her in a way that suggested he knew her.

So she said, "Do I know you?"

"Um, yes! Well, I'm Emmett McCarty. You might not remember me..."

Rosalie stared. "No, I do remember you."

"You do? That's great, that's really excellent, I mean—"

"Do you want to go out for a drink or something?" Rosalie interrupted.

"Yeah," he answered, smiling at her. "Yeah, I'd like that."

!~!

He checked his watch again. Rosalie was very late. Emmett took a sip of his beer and put the near empty glass down, spinning it around.

And then she walked in, just as he had been seriously considering walking out.

"Emmett!" she cried happily, sitting down across from him. "See you've gotten a head start."

"Yeah, well, the bartender was glaring at me in a way that suggested that if I didn't order something, he was going to throw me out with an accompanying punch or something."

Rosalie giggled. "You always were funny," she told him. She waved the bartender over and ordered some complicated thing that Emmett didn't bother to listen to.

"So, what's going on in your life?" she asked him.

He told her about his new job, his new apartment, how he was nervous to be living in the big city after so long in a tiny town. She listened as if he were her favourite television show, eyes wide as she sipped on her drink, some pink frothy thing that Emmett suspected was overly expensive.

"Um, that's enough about me," Emmett finished. "How about you?"

And Rosalie told him. She told him everything. She told him about her high school boyfriend, the one boy she thought was her forever. She told him about how he'd gotten her into what you could call the bad circle at school, the ones who smoked and drank and partied.

"We threw our lives to shit," she declared. "And then he died. Over dose on some hardcore drug. I never did those, you know. Just pot and nicotine. That's me."

Emmett just stared at her.

"And now I don't know what to do with myself," Rosalie admitted.

He didn't think he'd ever heard anything quite so tragic.

Not in real life, anyway.

"You probably didn't want to hear all this. This wasn't what you meant when you said you'd like to have a drink with me. You meant 'yeah, let's have a drink and talk about superficial bits of our lives since the last time we met, which was a really long time ago'."

Emmett shook his head. "No, I—"

"I always liked you, you know. I swear I thought you were the best person to have ever lived in preschool. Stupid typical boy and girl elementary school issues..."

"Rosalie!"

"What?"

"I really appreciate that you told me this. I want... I want to help you. Help you figure out what to do with yourself, you know?"

Rosalie looked at him, cautious. "You won't ditch me?" she asked quietly.

"Never," he promised. "I always liked you, too, you know."

She smiled. "Thank you."


	24. Prompt 2

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Two  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Edward/Emmett  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Timon**: So where you from?  
**Young Simba**: Who cares? I can't go back.  
**Timon**: Ah, you're an outcast! That's great. So are we.

* * *

"Yo, Edward, man, check it out. Free booze." Emmett pointed out a large sign on a nearby hotel.

"Emmett, that says cheap, not free."

He shrugged. "Same diff. We gotta get in on this."

"You don't want to get home anytime soon, do you?"

"Fuck no. Like I want my parents to flip a bitch when I bring a guy home instead of the blonde I told them I was dating."

"It's not like I care, you know."

"Yeah, well, I do."

"Nothing I can do to change your mind?" Edward asked.

"Nothing," Emmett confirmed.

"Then cheap booze it is."


	25. Prompt 16

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: Sixteen  
Pen name: TRDancer  
Pairing: Bella/Carlisle  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

* * *

**Timon**: Let me get this straight. You're the king? And you never told us?

* * *

I had always thought my boss was hot.

Sadly, I hadn't been aware he was a hot asshole.

The asshole part was kind of important to a conducive relationship.

Too bad I realized that a bit late.

Like, before we went on a date would have been good. Or before we had sex. Before he met my parents. Before he moved in. Before we got engaged.

At least I realized before we got married, right?

Fuck my life.

* * *

**Thank you for reading the complete randomness and nonsense that was Breaking Bones. :)**


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